Perfection Accomplished
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Barty will never meet his Fathers impossible standards. Regulus Black offers him another way. (AU)


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

**AN - This is AU, in that I've played around a little with ages. I think Barty should be older than I've made him, but...meh. So yeah, keep that in mind.**

**Written for;**

**Hogwarts Ancient Runes - Assignment 6 - A Death Eater. (Prompt - Sadness)**

**The Duelling Competition - Character - Barty Crouch Jr**

**The Disney Competition - James Hook (Barty Crouch Jr) - Prompt - Crystal**

**Mythology Competition - Furies**

**Perfection Accomplished **

Perfection. That's what was expected of Barty from his father. It had been drilled into him throughout his life, his earliest memory of a lecture from his Father about the importance of success. His first year in Hogwarts, an exceeds expectations had earned him a thorough telling off, and from then on, he strained to make perfect O's, less he be a disappointment.

Barty didn't know when he stopped caring what his Father thought. Was it sometime during that telling off from first year, or was it later, in third or fourth year? He didn't know, and he didn't really care. Entering his fifth year as a Hogwarts Prefect, he knew he didn't feel the sense of achievement expected, didn't feel anything from the patronising smile his Father gave him when he saw the letter on one of his few appearances at home.

Regardless of his care, or lack there of, he still kept up his impeccable record of Outstandings, still spent the vast majority of his time in the Hogwarts Library, still did as was expected of him. He was the son of a prominent Ministry Official, one tipped to become a Minister Of Magic if he continued as he was, and Barty, under no circumstances, was to become the blot that made that dream fall through his Father's fingers.

Barty didn't know when he stopped reading so much, instead spending his time in the library watching _them._ Severus Snape, Regulus Black, and their little gang. It was common knowledge in the halls of Hogwarts that they would be the newest members of the Death Eaters when they left school. Regulus was in Barty's year. They shared a few classes, and Barty took to watching him, rather than the teachers.

He was cool as you like, an air of confidence and arrogance around him that seemed to pull you in, yet keep you away at the same time. He was... well, in Barty's opinion, he was perfect. Untouchable in a way Barty dreamed of, Regulus was everything Barty wanted to be, but couldn't. Barty watched Regulus, along with his 'friends, if they could be called that, for the rest of his sixth year.

Summer rolled around, and Barty barely saw his father. He barely saw anyone, as he kept himself locked away in his room more often than not. He spent some time with his mother, the only person he could ever say had always been there for him, and also the only person he could ever say he truly loved. He often felt guilty for the dark thoughts that entertained him during his time in the library, watching Regulus and wishing he could join him. Wishing he could _be_ him. He didn't want to hurt his mother.

Seventh year was different. Regulus was alone more often that not, in the library, in the corridors, at meal times. Barty wondered idly if the boy ever got lonely, as he himself did, but he was never certain of the answer. Regulus didn't look lonely, and he didn't act it. He still acted like he was above everyone else in the room, and like he didn't care one jot what people thought of him.

It was on Halloween evening when things changed.

Barty was in the library following dinner when Regulus entered. Barty looked up instinctively, after so long watching Regulus, Barty seemed to have a built in tracking charm for him. Usually, Regulus didn't even acknowledge Barty's presence, but when Barty looked up, his eyes were captured by the most intense eyes he had ever seen.

Regulus was staring directly at him, a half smirk on his face, one eyebrow raised. Barty blushed and looked down, instantly ashamed of his reaction. He trained his eyes to the page he had been reading, refusing to look up when a chair was pulled out directly facing him.

"Crouch."

Forcing himself to again meet those intense eyes, Barty looked up once more.

"Black," he muttered, almost proud of himself for not stuttering over the name.

"You've been watching me, Black. Got a crush?"

Damn that blush, and damn Regulus to the fiery pits of hell, Barty thought, looking away again.

"No, I don't have a crush," he mumbled.

"Then why have you been watching me for over a year," Regulus asked, lounging back in his chair.

Barty hated how easy it was for Regulus to be so cool, to be so calm and collected. Like this was nothing.

"I find you interesting," Barty said, and in a fit of defiance, he again let their eyes meet.

"You find me interesting? Are you sure that's all you find interesting?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Regulus scoffed. "Drop the act Crouch. You think I don't know what your Father is like? I imagine he just loves you, doesn't he? Doesn't push you to be better, even when you're the best? Doesn't act like you work for him, instead of being your Father?"

"So what if he does? I can handle my Father just fine," Barty snarled. Regulus was to close to the truth and Barty didn't like that. He didn't want the boy he had idolised in his own mind knowing just how weak Barty was. Imperfect. Never perfect.

"Handle him? I'm sure I could help you handle him in a way you never dreamed of, Crouch. Would you like an apology from him? I can help you get that, you know. I can be very... persuasive, when I want to be."

"I don't need help, do you hear me," Barty growled, trying to force the boy to drop the subject. He didn't want to think about things like that. It was far to...attractive a thought.

Regulus just laughed and stood up. "Crystal clear. You know where I am if you change your mind. I can help you, Crouch. I can help you reach the perfection you crave. All you have to do is reach out and take it."

Barty was left staring after Regulus, thoughts that made his feel vastly uncomfortable, but also extremely excited at the prospect. His thoughts no longer on the book in front of him, he packed his things up and left the library, going to bed to dream of power, of violence, of promises of perfection.

xxxx

Barty stared up at his Father. He should be feeling fear, distress, he should be pleading, begging. He didn't want to go to Azkaban. There was a part, a very small part, that still remembered the boy who craved to live up to his Father's impossible standards, who loved his mother, who felt sadness and shame at what he had become. That part was too small to matter now. He was a different person, a better person.

As he met his Father's eyes, he allowed himself a smile.

_Perfection accomplished, Father. Aren't you proud?_


End file.
